


Nightcaps

by westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist



Category: The West Wing
Genre: Episode Tag, Episode: s03e15 Dead Irish Writers, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2002-09-30
Updated: 2002-09-30
Packaged: 2019-05-15 08:10:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14786720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist/pseuds/westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist
Summary: A post party conversation between the Bartlets. A post-ep to"Dead Irish Writers





	Nightcaps

**Author's Note:**

> A copy of this work was once archived at National Library, a part of the [ West Wing Fanfiction Central](https://fanlore.org/wiki/West_Wing_Fanfiction_Central), a West Wing fanfiction archive. More information about the Open Doors approved archive move can be found in the [announcement post](http://archiveofourown.org/admin_posts/8325).

**Nightcaps**

**by:**   


**Category:** Post Episode  
**Disclaimer:** Not mine. Aaron and the guys have full custody of the kids. I just play with them on occasion.  
**Character:** Jed/Abbey  
**Rating:** YTEEN  
**Summary:** A post party conversation between the Bartlets. A post-ep to "Dead Irish Writers"  


* * *

It was late by the time Jed and Abbey returned to the residence, but they both knew that no matter the hour, neither of them would be sleeping anytime soon. The evening had been a little too full, and there were just a few too many things that still needed saying between them. Abbey preceded Jed into the sitting room just off their bedroom and after kicking off her shoes, went over to the bar make herself a drink.  Jed stood by the fireplace and watched his wife as she moved about the room, taking  generous swallows of the scotch in her hand as she walked. Finally, she turned to her husband and with a somewhat bemused expression on her face said, "Oh, pardon me- would you like a drink, too?"

  "Sure. Why not?"

  "Why not, indeed..." Abbey replied as she made him a drink, and after handing it to him, refilled her own.

  "Don't you think you're going to regret that in the morning?" Jed asked softly, taking the offered drink.

  "Of the many things that I may, or may not, regret in the morning -this is fairly low on the list," she replied casually.

  "Sure, you say that now-"

  "You know what- I would think of all the people in the world, you would be the last person to lecture me about unhealthy habits," Abbey shot back, the earlier casual tone gone. In it's place, Jed detected hint of a steel and a distinctive bite.

  "You're right."

  Abbey watched him for a moment after he said those words, trying to decide if he was sincere, or merely exercising husbandly diplomacy. Finally, deciding it was the former, she relaxed a little and took a seat. Curling into a corner of the sofa, she put her drink down on the end table and closed her eyes . A moment later she felt Jed take a seat next to her and lay his hand on hers. She didn't move, or open her eyes. Instead, she indulged in the frivolous notion that if she sat there, just like that, with her eyes closed against the world, they could be just Jed and Abbey- not the President and the First Lady, not the Doctors Bartlet...just Jed and Abbey, and no one could, or would, intrude on them. If only she could magically return to the days of juggling a medical practice and raising children- the wonderful days of simple chaos. The funny thing was, she imagined most people would give their right arm to be in her position. They assumed her life was full of comfort and privilege- and to a great degree it was. But, she would be more than willing to forego a little comfort and privilege if it meant the great and unforgiving eye of unending scrutiny could go a little blind once in awhile. It really was ridiculous when you thought about it- she couldn't just have a normal, depressing birthday- she had to have a very public, depressing birthday with dozens of people who only attended because she was the ‘First Lady'. No wonder she had gone off on her own to drown her sorrows with at least one woman who could truly understand the absurdity her life had become.

  "Abbey... I wanted to say something- but I seem to be having a little difficulty finding the right words tonight," Jed said, breaking into her thoughts. Abbey opened her eyes slowly, reluctantly, and turned to her husband.

  "Why don't you not worry about being clever, and just say what's on your mind," she said, not unkindly.

  "Fair enough.... I wanted to tell you I'm sorry for the party tonight. I know it wasn't what you wanted. Well- I know that know. I just thought..."

  "It's alright. Really. In all fairness, there was no right thing you could have done tonight. At least this way, I was forced to at least keep up the appearance of having a good time," she replied with a rueful smile.

  "I really am sorry, Abbey."

  "I know- and it wasn't a total loss. I had a little fun, drank a little, and learned a few interesting things."

  "I don't suppose you're referring to the words to the Canadian national anthem?"

  "No- although that little interlude was refreshingly amusing."

  "It was a little disturbing if you ask me- I was beginning to wonder if we'd been invaded," he chuckled, moving a little closer and putting his arm around his wife.

  "Nothing that bizarre. Just my little homage to the absurdity of red tape and bureaucratic snafus. It seems that Donna was temporarily Canadian."

  "Temporarily Canadian? This sounds interesting. How does a person become temporarily Canadian?" Jed asked, clearly amused.

  "I'm not really sure. But, I suppose anything can happen during a Secret Service background  check. Anyway, Josh fixed it."

  "Ahh- that explains his frequent absences from the party tonight. I assume his lady friend was none too pleased."

  " She survived. In fact, it didn't seem to bother her much at all. Apparently, she had bigger fish to fry."

  "Josh has some competition, huh?"

  "No. Not in the way you mean. If Josh has a rival for Amy's attentions, it would more than likely be her ambitions, rather than another man."

  "That's an interesting comment, coming from you. Besides, I thought Amy was a friend of yours."

  "Friend? I don't think I'd go quite that far. I respect what she's trying to do, or at least what she says she's trying to do."

  "You doubt her veracity?"

  "I'm not sure... I get the feeling that at times she's just going through the motions- saying what she thinks certain people want to hear in order to best suit her own purpose."

  "What makes you say that?"

  "Well, remember I told you I learned something tonight?"

  "Yes."

  "Someone who had everything to gain told me what I wanted to hear...and someone with nothing to gain- in fact it could have cost her- told me what I needed to hear."

  "Therein lies the true friend," Jed commented.

  "That's exactly my point."

  "So, I'm assuming that Amy was not the one telling you what you needed to hear."

  "No- it was Donna."

  "Actually, that doesn't really surprise me."

  "I think it surprised her a little. She seemed a little shocked that she had actually said the words out loud. But, it was nice- in a odd way."

  "What do you mean?"

  "It's a bit tiring always being the First Lady. You never know if people are smiling at you then turning around and calling you a bitch behind your back."

  "At least when you call me a jackass, you do it to my face."

  "I do when I'm talking to you," Abbey shot back, with a wicked grin.

  "Jethro's not much of an improvement."

  "Deal with it."

  "So... Donna's moment of undiluted honesty - that helped?" Jed asked, changing the subject back to their previous topic.

  "Yes, actually it did. It helped to bring a little clarity to the situation. I just wish I could return the favor."

  "I'm afraid you lost me there. Return it how?"

  "Well- I suppose it would be more helpful if I just helped Josh to see a few things more clearly. He's really the one with the muddled vision."

  "Abbey, why do I have the feeling you're about to wade into a situation you should really steer clear of?"

  "Because you are a very suspicious man."

  "Even so- don't you have enough on your plate without poking your nose into the personal lives of the staff?"

  "Nonsense. Everyone needs a hobby. Besides, I'm a woman of varied interests and talents," Abbey asserted, finishing her drink.

  "I would be the first to agree. In fact, I was about to expound on your magnificent capabilities tonight in my toast- but Charlie talked me out of telling the story."

  "What story?"

  "The ditch digger story. You know..."

  "Yes, I know exactly which story you're talking about. You should thank your lucky stars Charlie talked you out of it."

  "He said it was more of a story about how cool I was..."

  "It's also not your story."

  "It is too- we were walking one day and I said that you could have married-"

  "Yes, the ditch digger, and I replied that if he had married me, he would have been President. It's still not your story. It's Lincoln's story. Actually, it's about Mary Todd Lincoln's accomplishments, not mine- and certainly not yours. You, my dear, are a plagiarist."

  "That's an ugly accusation, Abigail."

  "Yes, I know. You'll live, though....come on Jethro, let's go to bed."

  "When you say it like that, I have to say, it is a definite improvement over jackass."

  "Keep it up, and it'll be jackass."

  "Okay- I'm coming."  


  As they turned out the lights a little later, Jed leaned over, kissed his wife tenderly, and whispered, "Happy Birthday, Abbey- I love you."   

1.5.6503.32258  


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